


My Happy Ending

by Alecair



Series: Timelines [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Character Death, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2019-02-15 21:41:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13039983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alecair/pseuds/Alecair
Summary: Ardyn and Ophelia are dealing with inner turmoil. Both aren’t handling it how they should.





	My Happy Ending

**Author's Note:**

> Keep in mind, this is not your run of the mill Ardyn fic.

 

_This can’t be happening,_ she thinks to herself. _Not now._ _It_ _’s not the time._ She looks down at the object in her shaking hands and throws it across the room. The woman falls to her knees and sobs into her hands. She hears a knock at her door and a muffled voice asking if she’s alright. Panic spreads through her like wildfire as she scrambles to get onto her feet and trips over herself to answer it.

“Ophelia.” a blond-haired male is standing in her doorway. “I heard crying… You okay?” she looks a mess, and it worries the man.

“Prompto…” she chokes out. Her throat closes, and it’s hard to breathe. A pair of arms envelop around her and she lets out a strangled sob before burying her face into his shoulder. She knows he wants to ask, that he’s curious, but a few gentling pats on her back tell her he won’t; that if she were to tell him, it’d be because she was ready to talk about it.

“You don’t need to say anything, you can just cry it out if you want.” Prompto feels like he knows who it’s about, part of the reason she’s crying, anyway. He recalls the look in her eyes upon finding out who and what her lover was. The look of distraught painting her features, the weight it bore alone, was enough to crush him underneath its pressure.

_“You’re joking right..?” her voice quivers, her brow furrows, tears threatening to surface as she shook her head in denial, eyes wide as if in shock._

Prompto _hesitates to answer her, opening his mouth before shutting_ _it_ _, looking at the ground in dismay, lips forming a taut line as he tries to find his words. He breathes in and out before he speaks. “No…” he balls his fists, digging his nails hard into his skin. Why does this revelation_ _look_ _like_ _it_ _’s stabbing her in the chest?_

_“I need to go.” a single tear cascades_ _down_ _the curve of  her cheek. She turns away from him and walks back to her hotel room._

_“Ophelia wait!”_ _It_ _’s at that moment, he realizes the source of_ _all_ _her smiles, her laughter, and uplifted mood. During_ _the decade-long scourge, he never thought Ardyn to be the source._

He gives her a tight squeeze before they pull away and wipes a stray tear with his thumb. This person, of whom he thought as a little sister to him, was hurting and he was powerless to stop it; she deserves better than this. That she’s hurting because of that asshole, only serves as a catalyst to his ever-growing anger.  

* * *

  


Ardyn stares up at the bodies dangling from the rafters and sighs to himself. He was hoping to get his mind off Ophelia. He slouches on the throne and rubs his temples. _She_ _was to be a way to pass time_ _while you waited for Noctis to emerge from the crystal, Ardyn. What in the hell are you doing, falling for her? You don’t deserve her. You’re a tainted, washed up king rejected by the A_ _strals_ _._ He cringes at the last thought then slams his fist on the arm of the throne. Speaking of the Astrals, they were most likely on their high horses, laughing at him.

“There may be one thing I have to say to that” Ardyn holds out a fist and lifts his middle finger, in slow motion, to no one in particular.

He slinks off the throne and drags his feet toward the window. For the first time since the castle was first built, he touches the frame of it and gazes outside. He sighs to himself and thinks back on the past; how he should have been the one to grace the throne, many years ago. Ardyn balls his hand into a fist, scraping the stone with his dull nails and pulling it back only to slam it back in place. He’s angry and still, after so many years, he feels the stinging pain of betrayal.

Light footsteps sound inside the room and halt. A small gasp tells him his surprise visitor is Ophelia. “It’s true then…”

“So you knew.” his tone is flat and unable to read. It’s better this way, he tells himself. There’s no need for her to grieve over someone that doesn’t deserve it.

Ophelia’s feet move of their own accord, carrying her toward Ardyn in vengeful fury. She’s filled with an uncontrollable rage, one even she didn’t think she was capable of. She feels an overwhelming urge to hurt him, to break him. A part of her even wants him dead, even if she can’t manage to kill him herself.

Ardyn turns on his heel and languidly makes his way down the steps, his eyes fixated on her. He can feel the fury emanating off her; the pure desire for vengeance she makes no effort to hide. Her straightforward feelings make known her motives and he’s prepared as he takes both of her wrists. “Do not think that I do not know what you intend to do, Ophelia.” his voice is even and mellow, not betraying how he felt inside.

Her fierce green eyes bore into him, her brows furrow and she tenses in his grip. Ophelia’s gaze doesn’t falter and shows no signs of doing so in the future. Her messy hair breaks free from the hair tie holding it in place and falls to her shoulders. She bears her teeth at him; there’s a lot she has to tell him but she settles. “Don’t you dare try to analyze me asshole! You know nothing!” she roars.

“One needs not analyze when your body language betrays your intent.” he gives a long pause before he speaks next. “Where do you think this vengeance will lead you?” he questions.

“You think you’ll be happy once I’m dead Ophelia? Will it bring your family back? Vengeance, it’s unhappy and tears at your very soul until fulfilled, then what? You’re empty, but do you feel justice?”

“What do you care? It’s not like you ever gave a shit about me from the start.” she snarls.

Ardyn’s grip tightens around her wrist and his calm demeanor fades, visibly upset. “You will lose your humanity on a life run by vengeance.” he growls low.

His eyes flicker golden-yellow, his sclera fading to black, and the color drains from his face. Black liquid leaks out from his sockets and a corner of his mouth where it lacks flesh; he smells putrid, much like flesh that’s been rotting years too long. “Disgusting, isn’t it? This is loss of humanity, personified. On the outside, to others, you’ll look normal; like every other normal human, less terrifying.”he watches as her eyes widen, unable to look away.

“Take a good look. This is how you’ll see yourself every _time_ , every _day_ , and _everywhere_ you look in a mirror. You’ll go through your life waiting for it to end because you can’t stand to look at yourself. Is _that_ what you want?”

“This is-!”

“Different?” he interjects. “Vengeance is the same no matter the reason. There _is_ no difference.”

He watches as she opens her mouth to speak and nothing comes out. “As for your previous implication, did you expect this to end a fairy tale ending? Did you honestly think we’d recite vows under the the moonlight and live happily ever after?” he sighs heavily.

“As if the three of us could ever have one of those.” she spits at him.

Color returns to his face, albeit still pale by human standards, and the smell fades. Stunned, his grip loosens around her wrists. The Astrals were definitely having a joyful fit at his expense. “By three…”

“I’m pregnant asshole.” her voice comes out tight, seemingly annoyed as she rips her wrists away from his loosened grip.

Pregnant. She’s pregnant with his child. Years back, he would have been over the moon. At this moment, he curses himself for not being careful. He _knew_ better. He _knew_ how this was going to end and yet still took the plunge. His lips form a thin line and he gradually raises his arm. He places his index finger on her forehead, his fingers forming a loose half-fist. Light forms and before she can retaliate, he speaks. It sounds as if, as well as talking to her, he was telling himself; like something he discovers in that moment. “Not even _I_ am impervious to love.”

He pushes her head back and casts his spell, putting her into deep sleep. Ardyn swiftly slides his hand behind her back to catch her before she falls. “I loved you but the cards played against us from the start.” he sweeps his hand under her knees and carries her up the stairs, his eyes vacantly staring ahead.

He sets her against a wall beside the throne and away from the rubble. Gently, he tucks a lock of hair behind her ear as he thinks to himself. _If only you existed back then, things may have been different. But they aren’t and you more than likely didn’t._ “I’d have pulled all the stops to keep you at my side.” he whispers to someone who can’t even hear him.

Ardyn seats himself, gripping tight the arm of the throne. _I deserve to sit here,_ he thinks angrily to himself. “I deserve this spot, damn you…” he swears aloud.

He slouches over and hangs his head just before the door slams open. He can hear their gasps, their whispers. Ardyn languidly raises his head and throws them a smirk. “I’m afraid you’re out of luck,” he pauses. “The throne brings you here?” he laughs sardonically.

“It seats only one.”

* * *

  


Ophelia wakes to sunlight pouring through a window in a room she doesn’t recognize. Birds are chirping and the sun is finally shining after a decade of no light. “I almost forgot how blue the sky could be…” she mutters to herself, ever so slightly looking out the window.

This could only mean one thing. Ardyn is dead. A tear trickles down her cheek, confusing her. She should be happy right? He’s gone and the scourge is over, common sense tells her she should be happy. She isn’t and for a moment, she can’t think of a reason why. It then hits her like a ton of bricks. She’s still in love with him, a man she should hate for bringing the one thing that took her family from her.

“Why?” she questions herself tightly gripping her sheets.

“Why?!” she roars.

“I hated you! From the very moment I knew, I hated you!” she cries out.

“Why do I now cry that you’re gone? Why am I remembering every tender moment? Every single touch or the way you said my name? I hated you, but why, even in the moment of your death do I still love you?”

* * *

 

“Hey mom, I brought Orange blossoms, they’re your favorite…” a boy says sitting down. His brown hair is wind tossed and his amber colored orbs are glistening.

In contrast to his mood, the sun is out and the breeze is light. Everything is colorful compared to his dreary black and white ensemble. He brought Prompto along for emotional support as he visited her grassy hilltop grave on the anniversary of her death. He’s been with him and his mother through thick and thin. He even taught him how to shoot a gun as well as how to get the perfect picture. Prompto may think him akin to a nephew, but as far as he was concerned, he was his father.

“I brought Prompto today…!” he’s trying hard to sound happy but he’s failing.

“Avere got into the neighbor's shrubs again.” His voice shakes as he says the next thing to pop into his head. 

“If you were still here, you probably would have chastised him only to give him a head of Gyashl Greens.” he sniffles as he sets the flowers at her grave. It’s been five years since she passed and there hasn’t been a week where he didn’t visit her. He hoped she was happy where she was. She’d tried her hardest to raise him, for that, he was grateful.

“Though he doesn’t deserve to be where you are, I hope you’ve met father and given him a piece of your mind.” he chuckles to himself.

Prompto rests his hand on the boy’s shoulder for comfort. “You gonna be okay, Maverick?”

“Yeah, I’ll be alright.” he pauses, “Prompto?”

“Yeah?”

“I know I’m more of a bratty nephew to you, and this is completely out of the blue but, can I call you dad?” Maverick asks all while twiddling his thumbs and staring at his mother’s headstone.

“Yeah buddy…” Prompto responds and gives a light squeeze to the boy’s shoulder.


End file.
